Bloomsday is ushered into the crowded conference room and led to the podium. The city's highest echelon of lawyers have gathered to decide who shall be annointed, and who shall not. "...or is it 'whom?'" he ponders.
He gulps and reaches into his pocket to find a meticulously folded drawing made a day earlier by his son: a pigeon driving a bus on a rollercoster. After smoothing out its origami folds, he turns it over to find the words he scrawled while sitting in the hallway, moments ago.
He clears his throat and begins to read this.
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